Yet I see Mimi everywhere
by LonelyKangaroo
Summary: Have you ever wondered how Roger found the words for his song? Here's the story of what happened back in Santa Fe, his struggles and his thoughts. Inspired by a scene during What You Own. R&R!


**I got the inspiration for this story during a sleepless night when I was listening to What You Own. The scene in the movie where Roger is playing his guitar in Santa Fe, looks at the crowd and sees an healthy Mimi has always touched me very much, so I decided to give a voice to Roger's thoughts during that scene. This is also the story of how he found the words for Your Eyes. Hope you'll enjoy it!**

It was a sunny, cloudless afternoon in Santa Fe. Roger put the open guitar case in front of him on the ground and started to tune the Fender. Lots of already written songs were whirling through his mind, though he wasn't able to catch that one song, the one that was only his and was stuck somewhere within him. Roger shook his head frowning and as the people passed him by he started to listlessly play "Where is my mind?" by Pixies.

"Yeah, where's my mind? Good question, old boy" thought Roger with a bitter smirk.  
>He'd been playing in the streets for almost two months now, scraping together just enough money to eat something at night. Two months since Mimi's eyes begged him to stay. He hadn't been able to look straight into those deep, worn-out eyes. He told himself it would have been easier this way. It hadn't been at all.<p>

_Your eyes as we say our goodbyes, can't get them out of my mind..._

He was so scared. So scared of the inevitable. And he couldn't bear another loss like April's. He really couldn't.  
>"I did the right thing" he'd been kept saying to himself all the time. But his certainty was fading away so fast.<br>Roger looked around the plaza: how many people, and how many indistinct faces. But there was a face he kept seeing that was anything but indistinct. He saw her crossing the street, waiting tables at that café over there, sitting in a bench with a book.

_And I find I can't hide from your eyes..._

In his visions Mimi appeared healthy, with new and well-made clothes, bright skin and hair.  
>That's how his mind desperately wanted her to be. Inside of him Roger knew it was all a trick, yet he didn't have the courage to face the reality.<br>At one point his nostrils caught a familiar scent. Was that gardenia? Yes, gardenia with a touch of vanilla. The one Mimi used to wear. He turned his head to see whose that scent was, hoping the impossible for a moment. In this flurry of memories and perfume he missed a few notes and the guitar strains screeched. A group of girls near there giggled for his distraction. Roger blushed a little, shoved the guitar into its case and left striding. He walked for a while, then turned into a road that led to his favourite place, a walk along the Santa Fe River. When he got there, he sat on an wood bench with a sigh. He lit a cigarette and watched the big orange sun set behind the skyscrapers. "She'll be fine" he thought.  
>"She is fine".<br>He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, re-savouring the magic of that night when Mimi had entered from his window and kissed him.

_Your eyes, that ones that took me by surprise the night you came into my life..._

He'd been mean to her from the very first moment. Poor Mimi, how much she must have suffered due to his behavior… But if only she hadn't been so stubborn! He'd managed to quit drugs, why hadn't she? He'd brought her to Life Support, offered her his, of support! How more could he have done? She was a grown woman, responsible of her own choices.  
>"She's only nineteen… She's just a young girl, not a woman" said the little voice inside his head.<br>Roger threw the cigarette on the ground and hid his face in his hands.

_How'd I let you slip away when I'm longing so to hold you?..._

He was angry, so angry. But as he watched the cigarette slowly extinguish, for the first time he realized he was angry with no one but himself. He always thought his anger was towards Mimi, but the truth was that he couldn't forgive himself for having left her. And he finally let the thought pop in his mind: he couldn't survive without Mimi. She was even more important than the air that filled his lungs. Neither AIDS could kill him quicker than Mimi's absence. He'd been so stupid…

_Why does distance make us wise?_

He took a deep breath and glanced at the Santa Fe River for the last time. Then picked up his guitar and headed for the nearest bus station. New York was beckoning. 

Roger watched the high skyscrapers run fast out of the bus window, chewing the top of a pen.  
>"You were the song all along…" he murmured. The lines of the song he had been trying to write for an entire year had always been in his mind. Mimi was his muse and his reason of life. He wrote frantically on his notebook. Suddenly everything was making sense.<br>"Mimi, I'm coming!" he thought. There was something he must tell her, something he should have told her a long time before. He only hoped it wasn't too late.

_I should tell you, I should tell you..._


End file.
